Polar Opposites-Beasts and a Beauty
by Donrocs1
Summary: Dass Hamman never saw the Covenant war, but has spent his ODST career battling the aftermath. Yet, despite all of the conflicts he had endured against renegades and rogue alien forces, he never expected a crash-land as the only survivor on the forest moon of Zar-9 to be so bad. Pinned against feral Brutes, and aided by a smart-mouthed Kig-yar woman can be really interesting. ADULT.


Polar Opposites. Beasts and a Beauty.

-0-0-0-0-0-

At the eve of the day did the sun finally begin to lower. The orb of brightness gradually sank beneath a near impenetrable tree-line, in which, there would be no return for the entirety of the night.

Within a matter of hours, the ambience of crickets, nocturnal birds, and restless amphibians would fill the air to the brim of breakage. The dusk was as always under the black-looking shadows of the canopy that shielded the thickets and innumerable wildlife from the harmless array of constellations above.

Perhaps amid the commonality of sound, one could decipher the ever-growing thuds of a closing pair of feet, the shifting of bodily adornment, and the clack of a plastic and metal object slamming home.

But nay, not one of the animals in the area thought a thing of it, and that was it, there were ONLY fauna of mammalian and reptilian descent here, and none of them had the care in the world to a single sentient waltzing about.

Indeed though, as the boots of this creature delicately pressed amid the foliage and dirt hills, rocks and long-forgotten stumps, there was a niggling feeling of solemn loneliness that formed a ghastly aura on him.

The human, a male of his kind, could do little but control his breathing, attempt as much quiet as possible, and simply jab the barrel of his weapon about the serene, seemingly harmless array of wildlife.

Much to his chagrin and self-chastisement, this place was ANYTHING but safe.

Deceiving appearances usually were the killer in conflict, heed not the singular amounts of lives claimed by gunfire and stealth.

No, he realized the tree-diagram that deception riddled the casualty list with during war.

If it looked fine, it probably WASN'T. And that, was exactly why Dass Hamman never relieved his lower vision from the aiming reticule of his weapon.

Surely the night and darkness would conceal the foe, but, it would also conceal HIM, and that was something the ODST was hoping would allow his life to progress after this experience. For twenty-eight years, he had lived his existence, and seven of them were spent in the military.

Yet, despite his lack of veteran-status in the great human-Covenant war, Dass had seen MORE than a fair amount of combat with the Storm Covenant, AND the beasts he was against now.

Lurking about this forest, looking for him, were Jiralhanae... A LOT, of Jiralhanae.

After all, crash-landing on a barren, practically uncharted moon in the middle of nowhere from anti-orbital fire had its disadvantages.

Whether the Brutes had picked them up on some ancient scanning equipment, seen them in the lower atmosphere with their naked eyes, or just fired on a blasted whim, Dass and his deceased comrades never discovered.

When the Alliance frigate took a mortal wound in her engine compartment, and had drawn a twelve mile-long skid through the forests of the moon of Zar-9, the near feral Jiralhanae that populated its surface scrambled to loot the wreck like flies gather to dung.

Dass knew it was these tribes that had operated the cannons on the surface that brought them down, and that only gave him more reason to find their base, ANY one of their installations.

Where there were barely-working guns and modern technology, there were similar status ships.

At least, he hoped.

His black, scorched and damaged ODST plate blended enough so that the occasional sound he made, literal slip-ups, went unnoticed to the hunter teams that scoured the place.

In the backdrop, he heard them.

Guttural barks, howls and grunts emitted from a pack of the aliens that wound through the trees with all manner of looted Alliance weaponry, and primal guns of their own design.

He believed he had been a simple man, he believed, that he was never WANTING of much in his life...

But, for hell's sake, Dass REALLY just WANTED to leave this forsaken place.

He'd been stuck on Zar-9 for a week, and still, the Jiralhanae would avenge the few of their pack-mates he had killed, no matter what, apparently.

If not the current circumstance, he would have laughed at their ferocity, and their barbarism.

However, fate had its cruel ways of being, well, bluntly, a BITCH.

He may have stifled the chuckle, but God-Almighty, fate just HAD to put that twig beneath his boot, huh?

The loudest snap he ever heard emitted like a gunshot among the quiet woods, echoing for the farthest of reaches in possibly every direction.

Out of all the reactions he could mustered, Dass Hamman thought of the simplest, most audacious word he could deduct.

"Shit..." He sniggered.

He guessed death was pretty sneaky then.

The first banshee-like bellow rebounded through the trunks of the trees around him, and the shuffling of tens upon TENS of Jiralhanae practically tumbling about themselves to reach him followed.

He bolted, shoving past thickets and bushes, stumbling over rocks and groves.

In all honesty, Dass had never been so afraid. EVER.

His heart thudded against the gel-layer of his breastplate's internals, his lungs heaved raspy breaths from his dry mouth, and the generalized sinking feeling of hopelessness flooded his nervous-system.

With nothing but passing shadows, whizzing breeze in his helm's hearing apparatuses, plant matter brushing and kicking about him, he gave a final curse of failure.

And then, that was when the shots began.

The gunfire didn't sound like regular emits of its kind, if you could argue all modern weaponry sounded similar, but there was something hideously alien... BARBARIC, about how these ranged killers gave away noise.

It was akin to blades of metal scything past plastic holds, hissing of grazed shards.

Jesus...

The bastards had SPIKERS.

Chips of wood from the trees he passed kicked about him, leaves and stems, clumps of thicket were chopped and torn around, dirt and dust jumped from the ground he ran atop.

In addition to those, plasma fire burned in these places too, small bursts of light, illumination that shown the shadows of flung shrapnel symbolized a few of the beasts owning Brute-Shots.

Dass couldn't rely on his eyesight anymore with so much flashing and dodging, and that, PRECISELY, was why he never saw the lumbering hulk in front of him.

Now, he'd been punched, he'd been punched in the past, HARD.

Dass had taken blows from renegade Sangheili, humans, Kig-yar and even survived a graze from a HUNTER of all things.

But god-damn, did this Jiralhanae hit him GOOD.

The breath left him a single whoosh of air, his body went completely numb upon impact, and his armor cracked, it literally broke like freaking cheap PLASTIC beneath the wrist of this creature.

The ODST was silent as he careened through the air, breastplate all but shattered, and body hurting like hell. Dust puffed around his impact of a nearby tree trunk, and he collapsed like a bag of bricks on the dirt and brush beneath.

He had time to gaze upwards before a furred, belt-laden foot, calloused and flabby with wrinkled flesh and muscle, connected with his helmet.

Another hiss of ruptured armor, and his head-protection flew from his head as he sailed backwards from the kick.

His broken helmet vanished in the foliage, and the great monster towering over him blew a breath of wreaking air from its pug nostrils.

The Jiralhanae was coated in matted fur, plates of scrap-metal were belted and tied about its torso, shoulders and legs, ammo belts of xenophobe-looking munitions hung about its breast and thighs, and it clenched its bulging fists with an expression of murder on its ugly face.

Its maw opened, revealing rows of yellow, rotting dagger teeth, and released a roar of unprecedented volume, that almost deafened the human.

Surprisingly, even to himself, Dass had rolled to his back and recovered from the foot-lash faster than expected, and snatched up his weapon with clambering hands. The DMR clicked as the pin was thrown off once more, and he looked up in time to see the falling heel of the Brute's malformed foot.

The gun coughed, and part of the alien's temple blew off in a spray of reddish-purple.

Its heel never made contact, and the body fell back, and vibrated the ground slightly with a thud.

Surreal mist clouded his mind as he stood to his full height, and went to run once more.

He might have done just that, had three more of the beasts not cornered him like a rat.

They were all evenly as ugly and large as their fallen kin, they brandished Spikers, and a Plasma Rifle to level with his head, and one of them, by lord, had a serrated dagger longer than his freaking arm in the other palm.

His eyes shut.

He didn't think.

He was dead either way, and he yanked the trigger of his gun again.

Three barks later, and the Brutes fell with missing portions of their heads, their bulging bodies tumbling to the forest floor, and leaving his position obscured once more.

He looked about, in more than complete shock.

Dass truly believed at that moment, that he had prevailed through sheer luck. That was until he checked the ammo counter on the HUD of the DMR.

So far, he'd only fired two shots.

"What the HELL?" He muttered.

Didn't he kill FOUR of them now? Not TWO?

Another of the beasts fell not too far from where he hid to a beam of purplish plasma that pierced from the canopy above, and opened his throat like a cracked egg.

Dass might have gazed upward for his savior, might have stood silent and awaited for him to reveal himself, had a smooth-skinned palm not slapped over his mouth, and another ripped the gun from his hand.

He attempted to elbow his ambusher, press the hard steel of the armor there to his gut.

"SSSHH!"

When he, or, rather SHE hissed that to him, he realized something about this stealthy killer. She was not trying to silently cut his throat, she was trying to keep him ALIVE.

"Stay quiet, and follow me, NOW."

Her voice sounded silky, albeit a little serpentine in nature, but, either way, she was a better option than the Jiralhanae.

She dragged his limp body a few feet deeper into the brush around them, pressing hers and his bodies downwards to conceal more in the plant matter.

No sooner had she done this, that the padding thuds of Brute heels clambered past in a unknown, quite large number. They continued to howl and grunt, bark and yell.

Quickly, the predators were gone, and the forest resumed its ambience of birds, amphibians and crickets.

Dass was speechless.

And apparently so was whoever had saved his ass.

He spiraled free of her sleek arms, and turned to stare at the woman, his face contorted to confusion. Dass then attempted to sum her up, determine who, or WHAT she was.

He never finished when he saw the pair of large, orange/yellow eyes blink back at him, their black, slit-like pupils growing larger.

He growled, and fell backwards.

Darkness won this battle.

-0-0-0-0-0-

It was a light tapping sensation, and then gradual wetness on his cheek.

He stirred in the exhaustion that still plagued his system, and wiped the liquid off his face with a gauntlet. Soon after, it resumed, and finally, his blue eyes snapped open to see the droplets of morning dew falling to his head from the above trees.

He blinked, all tiredness ploughed away by the growing sensation of curiosity.

His head jerked up, and his body was still plated in his ODST suit, his helmet was gone, and his breastplate looked smashed to hell.

The memories of last night's chase came then...

Dass sucked in his breath, and reached to his side, expecting the DMR to meet his palm, and be pulled to aiming position a moment later.

When he came back with air, and a blade of thicket that his hand ripped from the ground, he raised a brow, and cast his vision about.

A small amount of early mist corroded and gathered about the endless sea of trees that jutted from the forest floor, and the small, yet hearable chirps of day birds could be discerned. A small amount of sunlight burst from the above canopy.

"Whoa..." He chuckled, leaning back, the prior failed preparations of readiness forgotten. "-Rough night..."

"Quite. You know, these guns do absolute SHIT against the apes, right?"

Dass felt his face go pale, and he gave a tiny 'Eep.' before scrambling away from where he lye prone, pressing his back to the nearest tree, and darting his eyes to stare at the crouched individual that had been beside him.

"HOLY CRAP!' He cried. He didn't know what else to say, he was that freaked out.

Now that his vision was focusing, he was granted the view of his savior, and ultimate reason for a king of bugging out.

Wearing a form hugging suit of pre-age Covenant armor, and layered with a jumpsuit, was a being he didn't expect at ALL.

Her body was black and grey skinned, held a quite appealing hour-glass figure. Two balled shoulders held aloft the exposing V plate that gave way to the tops of her bosom, which, by all means for an alien, was pretty... Nice to look at.

Her lithe abdomen was exposed beside the upper portions of her hips, her full thighs were protected by two armor plates of Covenant build at their sides, and her elongated, beaked head held a large plumage of feathers that bushed from the back of her scalp, and ran down to the area above her breasts.

The Kig-yar looked quite un-amused to his ogling, and seemed to pout as she stood to her full height, slightly shorter than himself.

The beam rifle she had obviously used to save him was magnetically holstered to her back, and, much to his annoyance, she held his DMR in one of her claw-like hands by the butt.

"Do yourself a favor, hotshot, DON'T go yelling. You'll just bring back our doggy-friends..." She sneered in a voice that could only be described as velvety.

"Second off, sizing up meat that not's for sale makes YOU look like a douche, got it?"

Dass was utterly speechless. He leaned forwards slightly, and shook his head to clear it, running a gauntlet through his black hair, he opened his mouth to speak, but then shut it once more.

Gee, this crash-landing was starting to get interesting, huh?

The Kig-yar raised a brow, and sniffed absent-mindedly. A moment of his silence later, and she huffed impatiently, and practically nailed his gut with the tossed DMR.

He let loose an 'Oof!' at the impact, and scrambled to readjust his grip on the gun, before looking up at her curiously.

"Alright mute-wonder, I prevented your sorry ass from getting grilled once, I ain't doing it again. I don't know why the Alliance is here, and I really don't care. Just activate a beacon, call for help, some shit that doesn't involve me, and we'll go our separate ways..."

Her elongated sentence hung for a while. She crossed her arms, and jerked her head at him.

"-Got it?"

"Uh-well..." He attempted to speak, and found his own vocals not functioning properly with all the insanity suddenly coming to him. He rubbed the back of his head, and was cut off.

"-Got it." She confirmed for him. "Don't let the gravitational-switch in orbit hit you in the ass. Buh-bye."

Her back was too him faster than that Brute had kicked him last night, and she began to walk away with bored speed.

Dass stumbled, and eventually, using the tree for support, stood to his full height, pressing his gauntlet to its girth to steady himself. He grunted, feeling dizzy slightly, and watched after her.

"Hey! Wait a minute, I don't have a beacon!"

"Boo-friggin-hoo. You humans are industrious, FIGURE IT OUT." She called back, her form gradually vanishing in the brush.

Dass huffed, and shakily began to step in follow.

"-But, wait!" He attempted.

Nothing.

The Kig-yar was gone.

He growled, looked at the gun he clasped in his other hand, steadied it, and gazed about the morning forest.

"Well, crap. I dunno where to go."

-0-0-0-0-0-

Maybe when he was a younger lad, Hamman had been a completely fit, and athletic kid that held videogames, drawing and design as the closest things to heaven.

Maybe, before he joined the Alliance forces in an effort to make the galaxy a better place, Dass was a pretty innocent soul.

Now, after this long in combat, he couldn't even remember how to draw a stick figure.

His previous arts had been lost to him among his skill with a weapon, and from the moment he had shot his first alien, and his first man, Dass was never the same boy he was before.

Note, he didn't blame that on anyone but himself.

It was his choice to join the army of freedom, and he would take the benefits AND wounds.

While this thought pressed him, he leaned against the cover that the grouping of ferns provided from the prying eyes of his targets, and blinked to clear his mind.

If he ever got off Zar-9, maybe, just maybe, he would retire and go draw a damn picture.

That would be nice.

Really nice.

Now, he just had to actually leave... ALIVE.

He cast his head forwards to view the small clearing among the trees, a patch of dirt LITTERED with scrap and destroyed machinery.

Apparently, the Jiralhanae of Zar-9 had a pretty sizable collection of weapons, ground vehicles, storage crates, and ship parts lying around, and Dass was just hoping to find a WHOLE ship amid the mess.

Despite at least ten of the Brutes waltzing about, their arms dragging by their knees, and heads bowed in boredom, he decided this would be easier than going to one of their main bases. It took him a coupling a minutes to slither through the foliage, and before he knew it, he was directly behind one of them.

The horrid-looking monster growled, and scratched at the fur by its backside, not even noticing the intruder.

Dass used every inch of skill he'd ever learned to kill it quietly.

He had never really executed a foe that quickly and so silently before, and mentally patted his back after his combat knife had drawn across its neck, and then ended its motion embedded in the spinal connection at its rear head-base.

He let the body fall beside him, and he slouched a lazy-looking thicket over it for cover.

Again, he resumed his trek towards the array of scrap, hoping, in some delirious notion, that ANY flyable craft was present among it. He grunted amid a blitz to clear the open lot between the yard and the enwrapped forest.

Dass was a blur of movement that the Jiralhanae patrollers never saw, and he raised his upper-lip in musing, self-impressed demeanor when he pressed to hide behind an old engine block.

The dirt was laden with tiny spigots, gears and chips of plastic, and he gazed about the lot over the rusty, broken engine.

The gray sky above loomed without comment as he examined the garbage that appeared like a maze around him, his eyes fell from one trash-heap to another, and he soon became aware that his efforts were in vain.

Not only that, but his growing frustration was proving to be his downfall.

He clasped the DMR tighter when two of the Brutes began to stalk past, idly growling in their Hun-like language about some unknown matter.

"This is just... Stupid, man." He complained.

It was probably the closest he had come in his adult life to his years in his parent's basement, searching aimlessly for drawing tools they didn't have for hours on end as a lad. Dass knew he would be repeating this cycle again, if with more danger this time.

And that, frankly, wasn't a good idea.

He turned with a growl, and went to clear the distance back to the forest.

_CLANK_

His vision was suddenly invaded by the amber hued, molten girth of a jagged metal spike that protruded from the girth of the engine block, directly beside his face.

The shot cooled a second later, and he was still sitting there, staring at it.

"Man... I'm gonna need THERAPY damn it..." He gulped.

He bolted when more of the Spiker ammunition sparked and rattled about his position, and he ran for the forest once more, swaying in his run in an effort to dodge SOME of the fire.

The Jiralhanae screamed and yelled behind him, and he didn't dare look back.

Dass leapt behind a tree, and winced when the opposite side splintered from Spiker shots.

He aimed the DMR, and jutted from cover slightly. The gun barked twice, and two of the incoming beasts fell with a missing eye, and one with a shattered cranium.

Ducking back, he resumed his sprint to the forest's girth.

For possibly a half-mile amid his run, he STILL heard the aliens pursuing, until finally, when his legs just screamed for stoppage, they grew silent.

At least, among the failed attempt, he'd gotten away.

But, as he panted beside a formation of rocks, and sat on one of them to catch his breath, the only accomplishment that he recognized, was the fact he was going to be dead soon, and still had a sense of humor.

-0-0-0-0-0-

The last empty ration pack fell from his hand, and vanished into the plant matter around him.

A few days ago, that wouldn't have mattered much.

A few hours ago, that was kind of a problem.

But now, Dass just couldn't stifle himself.

"Freaking BUTTER-NOODLES!"

He couldn't help himself. They were kind of tasty.

With a defeated a growl, he slumped against a tree trunk, and gazed at the ground absently. His breastplate still shattered, his head unprotected, his will succumbing to butter noodles of all things, and a low on ammunition were spelling his pathetic doom.

Dass Hamman had never really felt as worthless as he did now.

Once again, he found himself staring at the handle of his DMR, just... Thinking. Thinking of the family members he would never be able to see again, while, yes, it was only his parents and his old grandmother in the inner colonies, they still counted.

He would never be able to resume his talents in art, or retire, or marry-

The thought of romance and his lack of it, for some strange reason, reignited memories of his guardian, the alien that had allowed him to live this long.

That smart-aleck, pretty Kig-yar.

He didn't know much about the species, sure, he'd killed a few them, but he could deduct she was a member of a rather rare subspecies, deemed 'Skirmishers' by the old UNSC.

He sort of wished she would have helped him further, and he also sort of wished she talked a bit more than she had.

When he came to terms that his female-deprived mind was making him conjure this, he snorted and resumed walking through the brush. Never once though, did he even hear the slight, whimsical rustle of leaves above.

The darkened shape vanished higher into the canopy, and even an audible, quite annoyed huff had escaped it.

-0-0-0-0-0-

By the heavens above, despite the fact it was pretty obvious the berries hadn't been poisonous, they had left possibly the worst aftertaste imaginable in his mouth.

An hour ago, the bland fruit had been yanked from the thicket it grew off of, and Dass had shoveled a handful into his gullet, out of sheer luck, AGAIN, these things weren't fatal to consume.

But never would Dass Hamman consume another attribute of this blasted forest.

Now with his gut in pain, his armor breached, himself out of food and ammunition, he slumped against the nearest rock that jutted from the foliage, and sighed. The only positive in the whole situation, was the fact the Jiralhanae hadn't found him yet.

But, neither had the Kig-yar from earlier.

Dass never considered himself a physic, a mind-reader or a masterfully perceptive man, but the inkling of something STILL following him was indeed present. He had kept it to himself, not bothered to ask his tracker if it was the same female, and he planned to speak his mind to the would-be stalker soon enough.

Dass walked for another half-hour before the craziest, and stupidest idea sprung within his head. He heard the shuffling of branches above him, only barely, and he had to admit her skill with silence.

He knew, EXACTLY how to get her down from the canopy.

Sure, it took him awhile a find another pack of his pursuers, and his stalker had grown quieter amid his closing distance to them.

There were three of the Jiralhanae, all wielding Spikers, and adorned in scrap armor over their fur.

They snorted and grunted to each other, and never saw him rise from behind a thicket, until the lead one dropped with a DMR shot in his temple.

Dass smiled like a moron, lowered his gun, and waved his hands in the air.

He never proved it, but he could have SWORE, he heard the longest, whispered drabble of curses emanating from the canopy above. Spiker shots tore the plants around him, and he fell to his back, awaiting for the monsters to close.

He grinned when the trotting footfalls of the Brutes were practically on top of him, and he just had to survive long enough to get the thing in the trees to aid him.

Dass rolled forwards, balling his body, and cartwheeling through the foliage towards the two aliens.

He wrapped himself around one of their ankles, cringing at the horrid stench and feeling of filth that formed an aura over such proximity to the creature, he snatched up his DMR, and pounded its butt to the Brute's ankle.

It snapped, loudly, and it howled a animalistic bark, falling to a single knee.

Dass could have reveled in the small victory, and he just might have, but, he never really expected the fat paw to grab the back of his head, and tear him from the Brute's ankle.

He landed on his backside from the other alien's effective toss, and unloaded his DMR into its torso, firing shot after shot in coughs of light.

The Jiralhanae fell.

He frowned, and aimed the gun at the last one, recovering from its leg injury to stand full height.

_Click_

Oh no...

_Click Click Click_

The HUD of his gun practically screamed the number 0 on its face.

He should have figured that would happen.

And he probably should have figured the next event to occur as well.

The Brute surely began to tumble towards him, a serrated, dirtied dagger drawn from its many belts, and raised above its ugly head. It crawled a foot closer when the beam of energy scythed its scalp in two.

Dass had never smiled as large as he did at that point.

He let his head fall backwards, and he laughed, LOUDLY.

Chuckles and heaves of musing racked his body.

When he grew silent, that was when he heard the very noise he'd been hoping to hear for days. The pair of graceful, slender legs landing perfectly to the forest floor, and the gradual footsteps in his direction.

"H-Hi..." He sniggered, not bothering to look up.

Dass' smile was wiped clean from his face when he heard the rifle she'd been holding clap to the ground beside her, and two, smooth-skinned claws crunched about the armor on his collar.

Those same, yellow black-slit eyes glowed with an unmatched fury DIRECTLY in his face, the edge of her beak-like chops blew ragged, angry breaths on his neck.

She shook him.

HARD.

Dass felt his body rattle as she banged him against the ground at least five times, and she never changed her distance from him. He looked up at her sheepishly.

That was when the Kig-yar chose to speak.

Harshly.

"WHAT. THE FUCK. IS WRONG. WITH. YOU?!" She barked, loud enough to make his ears ring.

"ARE YOU LIKE, MENTALLY SLOW OR SOMETHING?!"

He just stared.

She narrowed her eyes wildly.

"Answer. Me." She grumbled, pressing onto him harder, and causing him to gag slightly on choked air.

"Answer me NOW. Or I'll rip your spine from your rectum."

"I needed h-help..." He choked, grinning like a dolt. "-That's just what I h-had to d-do to get it."

The Kig-yar was unreadable, save the already angry expression she glowered at him with. She still sat over him, claws clenching over the ruined ODST plate below his neck.

"So, here you are." He laughed. "-Looks like I got you."

The alien snorted, and stood to her full height, slapping him roughly to the ground once more, before she retrieved her gun, and glared down at him with inquisitive, hating eyes.

Her lithe, perfectly sculpted body shifted when her claw fell on her hip.

"Not only are you a dumbass, but now, you're a STUPID dumbass. Think I'm gonna baby you the whole time your here? Forget it now, soldier-boy. Your royally screwed, and there isn't a THING I'm going to do about it."

When she went to walk away, her clawed foot lashed to the ground, and his DMR landed perfectly flat on its side atop his sprawled body.

"-No ammo? Pity. Maybe it could be a blunt." She growled over her shoulder.

Dass, long before he had joined the military, had learned from opportunities that made their moves of escape. Whenever the lord was kind enough to bring a proposition, a possibility for survival or enlightenment, it always attempted to slip through the cracks ONCE or more.

So, here was his chance to live, and here was its attempt to leave him.

Nope, it wasn't gonna happen, not on his watch.

"Hey!" He called back.

She ignored him and didn't stop as he stood to his full height.

"-God damn it! Now, I'm not ASKING you to stop, I'm TELLING YOU!"

Dass mustered as much courage as he could to tell-off the one holding a gun, especially the one that still had ammo. He stumbled towards her, and noted how, mid-stride, the Kig-yar stopped dead in her tracks.

Even from behind, she appeared hunched, and even MORE angry than before.

"Listen here! Its pretty obvious your out here by yourself, I mean, lemme ask you, are there ANY OTHER people around this forest?" He gestured with a sweeping arm about the area, taking a position merely a foot away from her.

"-No? Didn't think so." He snapped, mind working on overdrive. "-Second off, beside the fact it might be NICE on your part for some pretty rare company, don't you think its WRONG to just leave a guy to die out here? Huh?"

He jabbed a finger in her direction, and still, she hadn't moved.

"-Cause let's get this straight, you seem pretty decent in my book, save the smart-aleck commentary! So, here's what gonna happen you-you-!" He struggled, built bravery and spat. "-You walking, ONYX PARROT!"

That nearly caused her to shoot him right there, and he did his best to put aside her claw grasping her rifle.

"-I'm coming with you! We're helping each other in this god-forsaken forest. Whether you like it, or NOT!"

Silence.

The alien just stood, turned away from him, body heaving in breaths that could only be described as a major factor of being pissed off.

He quivered slightly with adrenaline, and wiped his face with a gauntlet.

He might have spoken further, but she had other plans.

He didn't even have time to react to her martial prowess, and her leg spun with her in a blur of motion, that could not be tracked by the naked eye.

Her heel collided with his cheek, surely not hard enough to cause serious damage, but strong enough to make his vision flash, and pain run up his neck.

For the third time on this stranding, Dass fell like a collapsed wall of cinder-blocks.

The Kig-yar stood facing him now, her body shaking slightly, and her claws clenched into tight fists.

"You've got guts, hotshot, I'll give you that." She snarled, stepping closer, and pressing a foot to his stomach, applying pressure for good measure. He cringed slightly, knowing not to show too much weakness.

"-And frankly, with everything that just flew from that orifice in your screwed up head, I should SHOOT YOU." She huffed, and bent over her knee, to jab to a digit in his face, pressing the nail to the tip of his nose.

"I'm a loner. I always have been, and ALWAYS WILL. I've lived on this planet for three-quarters of my life without having a conversation with ANYONE. If you, of ALL beings, think you can speak, as if you damn KNOW my story, you are DEAD. FUCKING. WRONG."

She gave the coolest, most evil looking grin beneath her beak-like chops.

"Talk to me like that again, and your balls are gonna have a nice chat with my new dance... You wanna know what its called?" She sneered with those rows of dagger-like teeth. "-Rapid-Stomp. I think its pretty stylish."

Her foot relinquished its hold on him, and she crossed her arms, gazing down to his prone body with a raised brow.

"Get the hell up." She ordered.

Dass just nodded, and shakily stood, rolling his shoulders to ease muscular tension.

The Kig-yar stared up to him, and snorted.

"I'm going to my den. Your sleeping outside. No questions, or I'll relieve you of your head."

-0-0-0-0-0-

The forest was getting gradually darker amid the clumps of flattened foliage, and patted dirt. By now, his footfalls had been absent in his hearing, and he did his best to stare ahead, and not at the beam-rifle toting Kig-yar in front of him.

She hadn't said a word throughout the whole trek, and he eyed her feather-plumage on the back of her head with curiosity.

Now, with no anxiety or adrenaline clouding his senses, he realized that the female was giving off a scent, one that, much to his surprise, was quite... Nice.

The alien had the smell of tropical flowers emanating off of her, and the armor she wore had the distinct tinge of polish from it, and combined with the fact he couldn't stop ogling her, it was quite the site.

Dass, as prior mentioned, never had much experience with women of human descent. To be honest, he had had more success with Sangheili females than his own race, in fact, he'd dated two of them for god's sake.

Despite those two relationships never really evolving to much physical activity, having someone to talk too was... Rather a good feeling.

He missed it quite much.

Throughout that thought, his eyes almost bounced alongside her supple hind-quarters, that to his torture, almost looked like twin containers of heavenly gel beneath the hugging jumpsuit.

"If you don't get your eyes off of my ass, NOW, I'll tear them out."

Her voice grumbling in his hearing allowed him to break the trance, and he shrugged apologetically.

"-Sorry. I'm usually more respectful around women."

Apparently talking to her so formally kept her from responding, and she actively remained quiet until he spoke up again.

"-Uh... What's your name?"

"Ms. Sod Off. Family line of the 'Not your beezwax' lineage." She snapped.

He coughed, and fidgeted.

"Well... I'm Dass Hamman." He smiled awkwardly.

"Mmm."

Her lack of socialization was expected if her statement of how long she'd been here was true. Dass could only imagine the feeling of such idleness for so long.

"How long have you been here?" He tried.

"-Would you SHUT UP?" She snapped. "I can't enjoy the quiet with you still flapping your gums."

"But I want to know." He insisted.

The Kig-yar drummed her fingers with agitation on the side of her beam-rifle, and flicked her head back to relieve it of some straying feathers.

"_But I want to know! I'm so curious! I actually give a crap!" _She mimicked in a light-tone. "Give it up, trooper."

He huffed, and folded his arms.

"-Can you stop being difficult, and just TELL me? If I really didn't care what you were about to tell me, someone with your perception could figure that out easily. Right?"

The Kig-yar didn't answer for at least a minute, and he gave up at that instance, letting his gauntlets drop to his sides, as he walked on in follow.

"I came here as a chick." She grumbled. "Grew up on the _Psalm Courier_, was abandoned by my mother when our transport landed here for water supply. We were refugees from T'vao..."

Dass nodded in acknowledgement, understanding the many movements of Kig-yar citizens from their own homeworld and surrounding asteroid colonies to rid themselves of their pre-Covenant heritage.

"How did you survive here as a child?" He asked.

"-I ate insects, fruit and rodents. Killed my first ape at age ten... Learned to speak common from the old databases among the Jiralhanae scrap collections. Look, hotshot-" She stopped walking, and stared back at him over her shoulder, a bit more passionately than he had ever seen her.

"-There isn't anything special going on here. So stop asking."

Dass raised his arms in the hope of some common ground.

"How could you say that? You seem very resourceful, brave, intelligent. Sure, there are other attributes I could list that you'd shoot me for," He laughed. "-But I personally see a lot of special stuff here."

She gawked, and bit her lower jaw, some of the prior annoyance and anger that was on her face drained.

"When I saw your ship crash... I guess it reminded me of my childhood." She admitted. "-Seeing how screwed-over I am, the reason I saved you was because I don't want to see that happen to more people..."

Before he could even say something again, she was speed-walking ahead, and he had to struggle to keep up.

-0-0-0-0-0-

Her 'Den' as she called it, was actually the burned out hulk of an old Covenant commercial freighter, as large as a small house in its crumpled state.

Several barricades of sharpened wood rods, stockades and scrap bartered the front of the hideout, while the back was protected by a gigantic rock formation, that the wreck jutted from.

He stared at it a bit longer, and watched as she retreated inside the ship, but not before indicating where he was to stay.

The ghost, a speeder craft commonly used by the old Covenant, had been transformed into something of a small shack, its hull peeled away and carved to form a dome-like structure, where its engine and body parts made barricades around it.

Little did Dass know, that this hut would be his home for a long time, and the first night he spent curled under it, he didn't see the Kig-yar for the entirety of it, as she locked herself away in the larger crash.

-0-0-0-0-0-

The midday sun was never too-obvious in the gray sky above, and that was how many days on Zar-9 worked.

Dass had long accepted it, and taken to idly spending his hours practicing combat moves, sleeping, failing to socialize with the Kig-yar, eating the strange, cooked fruit and plants she gave him every few hours, and most importantly, bathing in the running water of the freighter's laboratory.

It had taken three days to relieve his body of the filth on it using that chamber, the only one that his host allowed him in at the greater hideout.

Having long drawn off his ruined armor, he had taken to walking around in a jumpsuit for the longest periods of time.

So, when he saw his friend emerge from the wreck for the first time that evening, he smiled, and waved.

"What's up?" He laughed. "Good to see your out!"

She nodded to him, and trotted to the side of the freighter's girth, where she snatched up what looked like a spare towel, and hurriedly stepped back inside the wreck.

When the door to its main lobby slid shut, he almost had to swallow his jumping heart.

Dass was never sure what possessed him to do his next move, but when he slid that ruined door aside, quietly, and stepped into the darkened interior of the ship, he just KNEW he wasn't thinking straight.

The inside of the craft was laden with spare ammo, appliances, supplies and all manner of storage crates, and that was just the foyer, though, he never went further when he saw the light.

Deep in the internals of the craft was the laboratory, the only chamber he'd seen in detail, and he stepped towards its illumination, and the gradual sound of running water.

Why did he do this?

He didn't really know, his mind was quite blank.

His foot tapped against a fallen object, and he stopped himself immediately from kicking it full on, and alerting her to his presence.

He bent to retrieve the thing, and stopped dead when he saw it was a UNSC dataslate, an old one.

Dass raised a brow, and activated it via power-button, wincing when a small amount of light burst into the darkness around him.

He scrolled through the list of entries, and found it peculiar, that there was only one.

He opened it with a tap of his finger, and read the three lines it contained.

"_I had no choice, my child, I will not allow you to be taken by the monsters that pursue us..._

_I cannot say much, and it pains me, but I know you will be a fine warrior, one not trapped here forever..._

_Sera, I will always love you."_

The alien rune that stood in the signature area told him all he needed to know of who wrote this.

But, when light invaded his vision again, he never knew he had been walking towards the chamber the entirety of the time while reading.

When he glanced up, his grip on the slate grew weak.

The Kig-yar looked majestic in that shower chamber, her nude form glistened with wetness, and remained full in all of the right places.

He almost scrambled for the door instantly, but instead, his butterfinger hands lost their grip on the slate, and it clattered loudly in his grasp before he caught it, and sighed in relief.

However, the audible, weak gasp that came from in front of him destroyed that relief.

Dass stared directly into her quivering, yellow, black-slit eyes again, her arms folded about herself, and her form quivering angrily.

"-I-I... Oh my god... I-"

"GET OUT."

"-I'm so sorry, I-"

"GET THE HELL OUT!"

He bolted outside and into the sunlight without really feeling himself do it.

Dass Hamman spent the next hour curled in his little shelter, utterly silent.

-0-0-0-0-0-

The morning enveloped the entirety of the forest with perfect volumes of light.

The sun for once, was amid a clear blue sky, and the trees rustled accordingly to a small breeze.

Within the confines of the little scrap-hut, darkness reigned only until he stood outside, and stretched his stiff form.

The lights inside the freighter beside him were off, and it was completely dark within. That tidbit was enough to display how much of an ass he'd made of himself.

Throughout the time he had been here, the Kig-yar, or, rather, Sera, as he had discovered her real title to be, had lacked most of her commentary and insults, and, as much as she wouldn't admit it, had begun to be slightly talkative.

Now, as of yesterday, Dass had most likely completely undone all progress he'd made to be her friend.

He leaned against the side of his new home with his face buried in sweaty hands, he mumbled atrocities of himself, and never noticed the door to the side of the freighter quietly slide open.

She stood there, staring at him, in the doorway.

When he heard her sigh, he jumped to stand in front of her vision.

"I'm so sorry! I don't know what happened!" He blurted. "-I just found your dataslate... I wasn't watching where I was going..."

Only days past was he flipping his temper on her, and now, Dass, the same man that had been the sole survivor of the crash on this blasted moon, was apologizing to the alien like he had just killed her pet or something.

Truth was, that he had done a notion just as bad.

She was silent, and stepped out of the doorway, not even meeting his gaze with her lowered eyes, and he noticed how she clenched the jumpsuit about her tightly.

With a deft movement, she retrieved a small canister by the side of the freighter wreck, where she seemed to keep spares of everything, and began to speed-walk for the door again.

"W-Wait-" He tried, but by that time the entry was half-shut. "-Sera, wait."

That was the exact sentence that forced the Kig-yar to stop, and the slab of metal that was meant to bar her off from the world again, was halted with a creak of steel.

Dass saw the opportunity, ironically similar to the first one that had allowed all of this to happen, and just like he had taught himself, he took it once more.

Taking tentative steps forwards, his exposed hand gently took hold of the structure, and Sera didn't resist when he lightly pushed it aside to reveal her quite exhausted looking face to him in the daylight.

He had indeed developed a good picture of what kind of person she was, just through the way she had acted and spoke to him over the week, and, strangely, he found that image being crushed by the appearance before him.

Her snout was stained, of all things, TEAR stained, her eyes were puffy, and she had a most depressing frown plastered over her face. With a indent between her brows, she muttered her response.

"What the hell do YOU want, hotshot?" Her voice sounded a ghost of its formality.

He sighed, and fidgeted with his hands.

"I guess I did read right, huh?" He joked.

She sniffled, and wiped at her left cheek bone.

"Yeah, ya did you prick."

"You really have no idea how ashamed I am of my prior actions," He explained, earning at least eye-contact from her. "-Not only was my curiosity clouding my true self and judgment, but I invaded your privacy twice-over. And for me to do that to my savior in this mess, is, really unacceptable."

The Kig-yar looked albeit impressed with his reasoning, and he offered his hand in an upwards, slow motion.

"For this I am sorry, and I can understand if you want me to take my leave."

She gawked at his hand for a short while, motionless. She sniffled again, and faced him fully before clasping the appendage with her smooth claw.

For the first time outside of the prior scuffles he had had with her, he was touching the female for other reasons than self-defense or reaction.

Her skin felt a tad leathery, but overall, it was unbelievably silky like, and he found the contact to flutter his stomach slightly.

"-I never expected a human to be this clammy..." She chortled, bringing up her second palm to graze and rub over his knuckles.

He shivered under the touch, and did his best to simply smile at her when she looked back up to his face.

"-For now on in your stay, just knock before you enter, alright?"

He laughed at that, harder than he had ever laughed throughout the whole thing, even when she had saved him the second time.

And, once again, he was met with another unique scene of the first LEGITIMATE smile on her part.

-0-0-0-0-0-

Without much else to occupy himself, Dass had recently shuffled through the many piles of supplies at this den, and found not only an old pen, but a healthy pad full of paper.

After recovering from the shock invading his system of the luck, he had practically scrambled back to his hut, and began to draw.

After the third picture, this one of a beautiful horse striding across the blank page, he figured stick-people just weren't his forte, even after so long without practice.

When he flipped the page again, he almost finished the base-outline for a draconic monster as the next image, but, he stopped himself shortly after. As he dwelled in thought, flipping the gray-colored pen in his fingers, he decided to do something more important.

With that, he retraced the outline, and set to work creating the best image he had ever sketched, and he realized its true potential after, and even before it was done.

With little semblance to everything around him, he held the pad aloft, and examined the wondrous, finely detailed drawing of the very Kig-yar that was housing him.

Still, after the apology from the other day, he hadn't referred to her as her name in fear of reopening old wounds, but, he deduced with a grin, she wouldn't mind him entitling the work.

After he wrote SERA on the paper in gothic-looking script, he got daring, and never noticed the chin that followed his pen over his shoulder, until after he had written the next word beside it.

"Beauty...?"

"Yeah, I think it suits her well- OHMYGODWHATTHEHELL?!"

He scrambled away from the prying form of the alien that had been gazing over his arm for possibly half of the drawing, and he stared at her as she reached over, and gently took the drawing pad from his grip.

Without much knowledge on what it was prior, she had long considered it useless, and tossed it amid the rubbish heaps when she was younger. But now, so many years later, she saw its purpose.

The sides of her elongated face were becoming quite purple-hued, and she examined the image of herself with a glazed look. Every portion of her body was perfectly drawn, and just the right size in comparison to everything else. He even drew the armor on her right.

When she looked back at him over the top of the book, he was staring at his feet, hands tapping against the ground next his hips.

"Nobody has ever called me that..." She muttered, still standing over him.

"Well... I think its way overdue." He sheepishly shrugged. "-I mean, I'm not trying to get you to have affections for me or nothing, I'm not even trying to be a suck-up, but I would like to see you happy. Its the least I can do for your efforts here."

Her head was practically turning purple with the sheer amount of blush that was overwhelming her, her previous notions to ridicule and insult this man were practically tossed out of the airlock by that point.

She had NO ONE in her life, besides her long gone mother, who had said these things to her...

She had never had a mate, a father, FRIENDS even.

And now, here came this blasted human that was making her perform cartwheels in her stomach.

"Dass..."

His head jerked up, hearing his name come from her reptilian beak for the first time.

"-Call me Sera from now on... Alright?"

He nodded slowly, as if coming to terms with what she had just said.

Now to be real here, Dass had never been... INVITED to the ways of permission from any woman in his life, but when Sera put the book down in his hut gently, and ran her claw rather slowly from the beginning length of her thigh, all the way up to her abdomen, eyes locked on him, he had the inkling.

All females displayed the desire to allow a male passage in different ways, and he watched as she turned to the wreck of the freighter, walking slowly, and her head just barely cocked to view over her shoulder.

When he stood to his full height, he noticed her backside, and the extra amount of shaking she put into its motions amid the strides.

Dass practically flipped to the ground with a trail of red flinging from his nose at that moment, but, he relented, and began to take tentative steps after her.

He was not experienced in his own species, and the thought, the mental image of what was about to occur, of the body of an alien, began to stir him greatly.

Sera left the door to the insides of the ship slightly ajar, and he pushed it away, stepped inside, and shut it behind him.

Work lights littered the previously dark foyer, and he trekked over the many piles of supplies that layered the floor, originally aiming for the laboratory.

But, when he saw the absence of light from it, he noticed the pearl of illumination from the opposite service-way.

Dass' eyes snapped to view it in time to see the end of her clawed foot retracting into what was obviously her sleeping chambers.

He muttered unintelligently, and hurried down the hall.

Once outside the purple-colored metal door, he heard the shuffling of linen within, and he carefully pushed the entry open, not really prepared for its contents beyond.

The human stood rigid when he saw Sera practically displaying herself on the red-colored sheets of a oval-shaped, alien mattress, her jumpsuit cast aside, and her naked body in all of its perfection stood bare to him.

Her breasts were slightly bigger than her head, and she rolled them about with traveling claws, her supple rear allowing her legs to spread as she lay on her back for him.

"W-Wow..." Was all he said.

When he actually spoke, he saw similar emotions to his own nervousness trail across her face, and it was obvious she was just as afraid, yet excited of the thing herself.

He made tortoise-slow movements to enter the room fully, and shut the door, not even eyeing the several storage units that lay about, or the small computer console beside the bed.

"-S-Sera, are you sure?"

"Yes... Now... Please, come here."

He shook at the huskiness of her tone, and climbed atop the soft mattress in front of her. For a long time, he just stared ahead, eyeing her treasures without enacting.

"Are you well?" She asked, heated.

"Yeah... I guess, I really don't know how to proceed." He admitted with slight shame.

"-Dass, as much as my commentary says otherwise, I won't bite." She smiled with a heavy shade of purple.

With outstretched arms, she sat up, and he jerked beneath the first heavy contact with this much of her body.

Her entire girth of both arms rubbed and glided across his back and chest, and she crooned lowly in her exotic, alien-like tone as she got a better feel for the human.

Dass fought off the euphoria, blinked, and allowed his hands to feel about her back.

Like her palms, the skin here was smooth and silky to the touch, and he curved and traced about her lithe spine and shoulders, and let his palms rub to the sides of her hips.

She gasped when he went lower, and cupped the two protrusions at the ends of her thighs, effectively kneading the flesh of her backside.

"-This is... BETTER than I expected..." She huffed. "-I really want too... You know that, right?"

Dass spiraled them around, and he pressed his own back to the sheets below, and Sera straddled his hips under her own, sitting atop him, and glancing down at him between the mounds on her chest.

"More than you know." He smiled nervously.

"From what I have gathered of humans," She gasped. "-The males like breasts..."

Her claws took hold of his hands, and brought them up to the great orbs on her body, before she placed them over her black-colored nips.

He didn't respond, and began to tug and clench them, emitting exhales and sharp-intakes of breath from her, the Kig-yar's eyes glazing slightly, and a long reptilian, pink tongue drooped from her ajar maw.

His top jumpsuit was practically torn off by her greedy digits, and she threw the remains over her shoulder as he continued to pleasure her.

Her sumptuous hips rolled and ground against his lower frame, feeling the ever-growing bulge that was invading between his legs. With his hands working diligently, Dass rolled and toyed with her breasts as she let loose an prolonged, and quite seductive moan.

That single vocal, the drawn out expression of her pleased demeanor, was enough to get him confident in the situation.

His hands dragged down from her breasts, and began to highway down her belly, and eventually, rubbed circles in her inner thighs, allowing the flesh there to quiver and jerk under his attentions due to high sensitivity.

Sera whined as he did this, giving off high-pitched sounds that could only be compared to such a word.

He grunted when her claws dug their palms into his groin, massaging the bulge that had grown from it beneath his lower jumpsuit.

Dass, while struggling to fight through the sudden urge to just let the horny alien take over, managed to brush his fingers over the slit-like organ at her base, and rediscovered it when her own rubbing ceased.

Her vent was quite similar to a human's, it was a little shorter in up-down length, was pink in its internals, and held several gray-colored folds along its outside.

She smiled in a appreciative manner as he examined her.

"Is it... Beautiful? Like you wrote on that paper?" She asked in a heated whisper.

"Beauty can't describe it..." He replied, applying sudden pressure to its outsides with his digits.

She opened her mouth slightly, and began to breath even heavier when he centered his fingertips to its middle.

"-Its BETTER than beautiful."

He figured he was doing quite alright for a first-time, and this opinion was reinforced by her short moans and her shaking body whilst he performed circular motions with all five of his fingers in the center of her vaginal opening.

Dass then gave her all the reason to release the sudden cry that she did, and inserted three of his appendages into her.

He was gentle in his movements, and carefully worked them in and out, and watched with pride as she placed a claw over her backside, and one over her right breast, and clenched and tugged with both.

Her walls inside were unbelievably cushiony and slick, they began to contract and milk his fingers as he sped up, the lack of experience on her part finally catching up.

Sera cast her head back, and turned a gradual exhale into a deep moan when he felt the increased wetness forming about his hand, and her insides moved at a faster speed.

Her orgasm ended, nearly as quick as it came on, and she panted as he removed his hand from her.

Her scents at this point were driving him on complete overdrive, the previous smells of her clean body now wafting with the love-fluids that gathered below.

"-Dass, I really need you..." She cooed, reaching down and digging her nails into his lower jumpsuit.

He never even heard the tear, and she stopped straddling him only briefly to toss them on the floor with his other ruined garment.

Soon after, she sat atop his bare lower-half, and began to size-up and ogle her next prize.

His own sex was fully erect, and she took hold of it were her claws, noting his quick intake of breath.

With purposeful strokes, she worked it, and aimed it towards her vent.

Dass could only observe with awe as his tip sank inside of her, and that wondrous, beautiful body he had been near smitten with for so long, allowed him to claim it.

Sera had her eyes half-shut, her pink tongue lolling out to the side of her snout, she made it halfway down his girth before he met the one thing he was afraid of.

"-I didn't know Kig-yar had these too..." He panted.

"-Not a picnic on my side either..." She sighed. "-Be quick..."

He did as instructed, and, with a hurried movement, he thrust the rest of his penis inwards, and broke the very barrier that represented her virginity.

A yip of pain from her, and Dass immediately sat upwards, and wrapped his arms over her quaking torso. He waited for her to leave the discomfort, and to add, he did something least than expected on her part.

At first, it was difficult to meld with her reptilian snout, but Dass managed to get a good angle in order to open her mouth with his lips.

Sera found her pain vanishing among the new sensations the kiss brought her, and opened her mouth into it, claws draping over his shoulders, and tongues entwining within their maws.

Her eyes shut completely, and she began to grind her body into him, sinking his organ deeper inside of her.

With rejuvenated vigor, the negative sensation controlling her faded, and as if a switch was flicked, unimagined, and foreign euphoria collected as her internal walls were spread.

Dass breathed heavily, and awaited her to give him an OK to continue.

Sera blinked a few times, and placed her claws on his belly, rocking her hips in a to-fro motion.

Seeing himself vanish sluggishly in and out of her opening gave the human enough wild-sensations, that his hands grabbed and squeezed at her thick thighs and hindquarters, a select few claps of impacted Kig-yar flesh echoed throughout the chamber.

Sera would not allow the entirety of the session to go slowly, and leaned to press her magnificent breasts to his chest.

Her beak locked with his mouth again, and her eyes snapped shut as ridiculously pleasurable feelings of emotional and physical origin racked her, and the building tidal-wave of such an alien notion hit her.

For the first time in her life, and her stay on this stupid, barren moon...

Love coursed through her insides.

She moaned into his lips, and rolled her backside in liquid, fluid motions, gathering an increased flux of her wetness as the arousal grew between them, her inner thighs and his crotch becoming slick with vaginal fluids.

Her meaty hips clapped against him repeatedly, and Dass had to keep his eyes slammed closed from the threat of them bulging out.

Sera detached from his mouth, and stared down at him with an unmatched passion, that no one had ever given him before. As he gazed into yellow/orange eyes, and observed their black slit centers, a flame was burning inside them that only gave semblance to undying devotion.

Dass Hamman had just earned the eternal, and endless infatuation of this woman, and it was all by chance.

Damn, was he glad he took that opportunity in the forest.

Their activities pressed well in a same, looping repeat for no more than a coupling of minutes, and he was amazed at the stamina of the Kig-yar as she kept bouncing her supple rear on him.

Very soon, there was only so much his inexperienced body could handle, and Dass reached upwards with his hands, and clasped her backside hard.

Her labored breathing erupted in a sudden outburst of a cry, and she sat upwards when the human mercilessly pounded her with heavy, repeating jerks.

He never had much desire to go SUPER-fast with this, but the strategy he was using seemed to do everything he wanted and more, and he didn't hold back when his testes began to grow warmer.

It was akin to a building explosion, and he grunted a final time before ultimatum.

Sera was wailing when he blew strands of white within her, their hips ferociously clapping, and her chambers walloping over his unloading member.

Her mattress creaked and rattled as the human let years of pent-up virginity form a nuclear detonation inside the vaginal canal of the Kig-yar, and he weakly pumped into her a few more times, further making squelching noises as the mixture of fluids seeped out from her.

By the end of the whole ordeal, their groins were stained thoroughly, and tiredness unmatched bracketed them.

Sera's pants were all that he heard beside his own, and he leaned back in the sheets, gazing up at the purple-metal ceiling of the chamber.

The Kig-yar groaned appreciatively, rubbed her bosom, and sprawled atop him, nudging her head beneath his chin to lay on his neck and collar.

"-You know... Hotshot, I've never been this happy before..." She stated in a murmur.

"Well, Sera, I plan on making you happy like this for a long time..." He responded.

Though in his growing exhaustion, he couldn't see her expression, the dripping sensation of her falling tears was all he needed to feel in confirmation of the massive smile that formed on her chops.

Her eyes shut, and her legs mingled with his, their connected genitals were quickly disconnected with a POP.

Dass heard her say it right before sleep claimed her, and he stifled a desire to CRY it too her.

"I really do... I love you..."

Her words trailed, and soon, a light snoring was audible.

Dass Hamman was out like a light too, and perhaps, when, with her help, he contacted the Alliance for rescue, he could get off Zar-9...

But certainly, he wouldn't be leaving alone.

From that night onwards, he made a goal as a person to get this wondrous female OFF of Zar-9.

The same forest planet where he almost died, and was saved.

The same forest planet home to innumerable Jiralhanae monsters...

The same forest planet to house a beautiful creature...

Polar Opposites on Zar-9...

Beasts and a Beauty...

-0-0-0-0-0-

FIN


End file.
